All Forgiving
by Omega Devin
Summary: -COMPLETE! ...for the time being- A mere week after the events in the basement of the Opera Populaire, Christine is plagued by nightmares by night and a haunting question by day... EC, but Raoul friendly.
1. Our Farewell

**Disclaimers:** Proper copyrights are applied as needed. Just know that I own nothing other than this piece of writing.

**Author's Note:** This fic is set in the 2004 movie-verse, seeing as it's the version that remains the clearest in my mind, but it will have aspects from Susan Kay's novel (most notably with the cameo of Nadir, "The Persian"). Also note that I would never change the controversial ending (should Christine have stayed with Erik?) of the book(s)/stage play/movie for anything in the world. But, seeing that the movie and its soundtrack make me cry when I see/listen to them, this fic is nothing more than some needed soul soothing.

**All Forgiving**

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**Chapter One**

**Our Farewell**

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_"In my hand, a legacy of memories,_

_I can hear you say my name._

_I can almost see your smile,_

_Feel the warmth of your embrace…_

_Never thought this day would come so soon_

_We had no chance to say goodbye…_

_How can the world just carry on?_

_I feel so lost when you're not by my side…_

_But there is nothing but silence now,_

_Around the warmth I loved…_

_Is this our farewell?_

_Sweet darling, you worry too much,_

_My child, see the sadness in your eyes._

_You are not alone in life,_

_Although you might think that you are_

_So sorry your world is tumbling down,_

_I will watch through these nights._

_Rest your head, and go to sleep_

_For my child, this is not our farewell…_

_This is not our farewell…_

"Our Farewell" Within Temptation

_-_

****

****

_"Go now! Go now and leave me!"_

_Christine felt her heart wraith in agony, like a wounded animal in pain as she helplessly watched Erik – the Opera Ghost, her Angel of Music – retreat, broken and defeated, into the recesses of his underground home. A cold numb befell her as her eyes remained locked on the spot where Erik had stood, as if she could not comprehend the events that occurred after their kiss. _

_Seeing him in this state struck her like a physical blow. He had always been so strong when she was with him, so confident…so utterly in control and commanding of every aspect of his life and the kingdom he built within the Opera Populaire. _

_Now he was lost, confused, spiraling out of control as everything he knew crumbled around him. That had been made painfully clear to her by the tears in his eyes when their kiss ended._

_For him, the dream was over._

_And all because of her._

_Somewhere behind her, Raoul untangled himself from the ropes that bound him to the portcullis. She was unaware of his presence until his fingers closed around her slender arm. "Christine…" he began, unsure of what to say, gently pulling at her arm. "Let's go. There's nothing else here…"_

That was a lie. There was so, so much here…

_He_ was still here, in the dark, and all alone…

_The ring in Christine's hand suddenly seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. Slowly, she turned to face Raoul but refused to look at him, hiding the tears in her eyes. "There's…something I must do, Raoul. Please, wait for me here."_

_Raoul__ paled, which starkly contrasted the sickly blue highlights that still tinged his lips and under his eyes. "Christine, we can't stay…the mob…"_

_"Raoul, please."__ She pleaded. "There is something I need to do." Without waiting to hear his further protests, Christine returned to the shore of Erik's lair and retraced the Phantom's steps to the direction he had disappeared to._

_She found him in his room, sitting before the barrel organ music box. His posture was horribly slumped in the only way a completely defeated man knew how to hold himself. He was gazing at the music box in a sort of wonder as it played its mystical tune, looking strikingly like a little lost boy who had nothing else in the world. The sight almost broke Christine's heart._

_Then Erik began to sing softly to the music…_

"Masquerade…paper faces on parade, Masquerade! Hide your face so the world will never find you…"

_Oh, the cruel irony of those words. Without his mask, his shield of security from the world, he looked so defenseless, so vulnerable…_

_Erik's words trailed off and his eyes traveled across the small chamber until they met her own. Christine's breath caught in her throat. She no longer winced at his deformity; no longer played in her mind how someone could go threw life like that… Sure horrible, ignorant thoughts! She hated herself for ever even thinking anything like that. The emotion in his eyes – the longing, the helplessness…the hope that maybe, _maybe_, she might have come back to him – nearly destroyed the courage she had built up in order to face him again._

_The young singer could also see in his eyes a hundred please that asked her, begged her to stay with him. He had tried everything thus far to make her his. He had charmed her, wooed her, even resorted to threatening her with her fiancé's life, but she had evaded every attempt. Now he was ready to drop to his knees at her feet, but it was the last few threads of self control he maintained that kept him from doing so. _

_A hundred pleas, a thousands reasons, but Erik only chose one last argument, one final confession before she would inevitably leave his life forever._

_"_Christine…I love you…"

_Christine's heart died on those three beautiful words, and now she was about to take what remained of Erik's heart out with her own. Fighting back her tears – heaven knew if she cried, she truly would never leave – she stepped out from the shadows, the engagement rings growing heavier in her hand with every passing step. Hesitantly, she reached out and took his hand. His skin was so warm and inviting under her cold fingers…_

_Before her lost her nerve completely, Christine placed the heavy diamond ring in his palm and closed his trembling fingers around it. She wanted to say something to his, something to soothe him and herself as well, but the words were stuck in her throat. It would have all been in vain, anyway. Anything she might have said or done would only hurt him further…_

_…if that were humanly possible._

_She remained only a moment longer, clasping his hand in both her small ones, waiting for him to say something else. But the words and voice she longed to hear never came. There was only the soft breath of a dejected sigh, and two stray tears that fell from his eyes._

_Cursing her own weakness, she turned and fled, fleeing from Erik and the night and back to Raoul and the day._

_Back to a normal life, a normal man, that would eventually end up in a normal marriage… To a life where she would be admired and cherished like a fragile doll in a glass case, and to attend fancy parties that talked of nothing but money and politics by night. Nights that would be spent in the glamour of some business man's home or in the marriage bed, rather than singing enchanting duets, or listening to tales of far-off places… Nights were she would drift off to a warm, peaceful sleep with her head on Erik's knee and wake up the next morning in her own room beneath the opera house._

_Back to the normal life where she could never again be allowed to drown in Erik's music, Erik's voice, and love every moment of it…_

Then why am I going back?

…because he wants you to, child._ The accursed voice of reason whispered in her mind as she joined Raoul in the boat on the shore. _Because it is what is right. Besides, your father would have wanted it this way. Did you honesty think he would want you to spend the rest of your life underground with a madman, to never see the light of day again?

_Christine sat at the prow of the small boat, grateful that her back was towards the Vicomte as they rowed away. She did not want him to see her tears that finally fell._

But why…? If he loved me, why would he send me away…?

_Then, from across the cold water, came a voice, once powerful and majestic, now no more of a ghost of its former self. Much like its owner. _

_"_You alone can make my song take flight… It's over now, the music of the night…"

_A cry of anguish escaped Christine's throat. Forgetting everything else around her – forgetting Raoul, forgetting the approaching mob – she stood in the boat, looking back in the direction they had come._

_"Erik!" she called out._

_Then the world erupted in flames._

_Christine was suddenly back on dry land, only now she was alone. Hellfire surrounded her on all sides, destroying everything that had once been something that belonged to the Phantom of the Opera. The music box, the replica of the Opera Populaire stage with all its carved figures, Erik's treasured organ…all destroyed forever by the horrible flames._

_"Erik!" Christine called again, but no answer ever came. Had he escaped? Or did she wound him so deeply that he didn't care?_

_Christine looked down, and was surprised to see Erik's porcelain mask resting in her hand. Forgetting the fire, she brought it up and ran her fingers over the surface, which was still so cold…_

_…then cried out in alarm as blood seeped from the glassy surface. It ran, hot and sticky, over her pale fingers. Horrified, Christine dropped the mask. It shattered to a million splinters at her feet._

_Agony overtook her as she sank to her knees. In a last attempt before the darkness took her, Christine screamed with every fiber of her being._

_"ERIK!"_

To Be Continued…


	2. Only What You've Been Waiting For

**Chapter Two**

**Only What You've Been Waiting For**

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_You're waiting for someone to put you together,_

_You're waiting for someone to push you away._

_There's always another wound to discover._

_There's always something more you'd wish he'd say…_

_He's everything you want,_

_He's everything you need,_

_He's everything inside of you that you wish you could be…_

_He says all the right things_

_At exactly the right time,_

_But he means nothing to you _

_And you don't know why…_

"Everything You Want", Vertical Horizon

-

"Christine! _Christine!_ For the love of God, wake up, Christine!"

Christine's eyes snapped open as she was violently shaken awake, pulled out of her nightmare that plagued her sleep ever since the terrifying ordeal in the basement of the Opera Populaire only a week ago. Little by little, the waking world came back into focus. She was in the room the Girys had so graciously let her stay in since the Opera Populaire fire, laying in the bed, the sheets a horrible tangle around her limbs. Sweat matted her thick hair to her head, her breathing heavy and labored as if she had just run a mile. And standing above her, his face a mask of worry and concern, was Raoul. But after dreaming so vividly of Erik, it took her a moment to place a name to the face.

"Raoul…?" Christine started, attempting to sit up in bed. Without saying anything, Raoul assisted her, gently unwinding the blankets that had snared around her arms and legs. They were not alone in the room; Madame Giry was there as well, coming to sit beside the couple with a glass of water in hand. Christine took it gratefully, taking a careful sip. The horrifying images of the dream made her stomach churn uncomfortably.

"Was it the same dream again, child?" Madame Giry asked, soothing Christine's tangled hair back from her face. Christine nodded, still too shaken to speak. Ever since she left Erik, alone, in the basement of the opera house, she was haunted by the same nightmare every night. Every night she was forced to relive the moment when she handed his broken heart back to him and flee from him as if he truly was the monster everyone personified him as. Then there came the fire, and the shattered mask… and amongst it all, Erik was…

But she never found out. She always woke up screaming at that point.

Christine shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself, banishing the nightmare from her mind as she turned her attention back to the present. She looked back up at Raoul, who was intensely waiting for her to say something. "Raoul, what are you doing here?"

"Madame Giry told me about the nightmares. I knew you were having troubles sleeping, even if you weren't telling me so. I thought it would be best if perhaps I…was here for you woke up the next time you had one."

Christine felt her blood run cold. She had been calling out for Erik in her dream… Had she really yelled his name in his sleep? While Raoul was here? There was a flash of concern across Madame Giry's face. Christine could tell that the ballet mistress knew what would inevitably be discussed between the two young lovers now that the Vicomte knew what…or rather, who… Christine's dreams were about.

Christine saw Raoul's throat move as he swallowed thickly. "Madame Giry, would you be so kind to give us a moment alone?" The older woman nodded and left the room without a backwards glance. She knew that she had no place to what was about to transpire. Once the door closed behind her, Raoul clasped Christine's hands in his own. His palms were cold and clammy. "Christine…" There was no anger in this voice, no tone that bordered on jealously. He was only asking, without words, that she be honest with him.

The young singer choked, tears welding in her eyes. "Forgive me, Raoul. Forgive me…"

"Christine, please…just tell me what happened. Tell me what your dream is about."

Raoul remained silent as Christine told him her dream in a tear-choked voice, teetering on the boarder of control until she reached the part with the bleeding mask. Then great tears began to roll down Christine's pale face as she choked on her own words when the image of the shattering mask replayed in her mind over and over again. "Oh Raoul… I can't help but think that I killed him! I left him alone down in the cellars for the mob's taking…"

Raoul's strong hands clenched rightly around Christine's small fists and they held the sheets of her bed in a death grip, easing her increasing hysterical words into silence. "Christine, I'm sure he's fine." Although he sounded honest, Christine knew better than to believe the Vicomte's words. Although Raoul would never say it allowed, she did not doubt that he did indeed with Erik was dead. It was the only guaranteed way to keep him from further intruding on their lives.

_On his life…__ On his perfect, flawless life with a soon to be flawless, perfect wife…_

"You know better than I how notoriously clever he is. I'm certain he was miles away by the time the mob reached the lair."

"But…Raoul…" Tears threatened to form in Christine's eyes again. "The mask…and the blood, and the fire…"

"Christine, what you saw was a dream, and nothing more…"

_You said that to me once before. You never knew how wrong you were until it was almost too late…_

"Dearest, you're still exhausted from that horrible ordeal. It was all very overwhelming for you. For us. But I promise you, these nightmares are nothing more than shadows of a horror that has come to pass. When you are well enough to travel again, we'll leave Paris. I'll take you to my family's estate in the country. You'll absolutely adore it there. Once you get some fresh air, away from the city, you'll forget all about that dreadful event in the opera house. I promise you." Christine nodded absently, just to dignify him with a response. A few days ago, the idea would have sounded lovely to her. Now it just felt so horribly wrong. Raoul smiling brightly at her agreement, leaning forward to plant a gentle kiss on her temple. "That's my girl. Now, get some sleep. No more talk of these nightmares. I will come back in the morning to see how you fair." Without another word, Raoul rose swiftly to his feet and headed for the door of the guestroom.

Christine, however, barely noticed his passing. Her mind was a million miles away, locked the night she and Raoul were on the roof of the opera house just after the tragedy of _Il Muto_.

_But his voice filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound…_

_In that night, there was music in my mind…_

_And through music my soul began to soar…_

_And I heard as I never heard before…_

Erik…her muse, her guardian, her angel… The man who single-handedly brought her voice and therefore her dreams to life…

_You said yourself he was nothing but a man…_

_But while he lives, he'll haunt us till we're dead…_

So many lies, spoken before the truth was known… Once again, Christine knew that the words that Raoul had spoken to her in means of comfort held no relevance to the presence. It seemed that, even in her times of darkest despair, it was only Christine who spoke the truth.

Perhaps, that was because she was the only one who knew…

_He'll always be there singing songs in my head…_

_He'll always be there singing songs in my head…_

_Oh, Erik…_

Guilt weld in Christine's throat like bile, but the truth was undeniable any longer. She knew what she had to do, before she no longer had the control.

"Raoul." She called weakly after him. "Wait. There's…something I must tell you."

The young Vicomte stopped, his hand poised just over the doorknob. He looked at her in confusion, but there was something else there, something in his eyes, that told Christine he was dreading what she had to say. As if he had been expecting this moment for some time. Without questioning her, he returned to her bedside, once again taking her hands in his. She noted, with a pang of guilt, how cold and clammy his hands were.

Christine swallowed, unsure of how to start. No matter how she said this, her words would hurt him. He would be the second man in her life whose heart she broke…

"You…told me once that as long as Erik was alive, he would haunt us, day in and say out. He would never stop hunting us…hunting me… And now you tell me over and over that the nightmare is over, that he'll never disturb us again…"

Raoul looked a little taken aback by her words, and even a little hurt. "Dearest, I never said…"

"I know you didn't. But I can see it in your eyes. And a part of me wants to think that it's all over, that whether Erik is dead or alive we're now free to marry and live our lives as we should." She paused, swallowing back the growing lump in her throat. "But I've only been lying to myself. Raoul… please understand that no matte what, Erik will always be with me. Dead or alive, his voice, his music, are now a part of me. They will never leave me. And no matter where we go, I'll always be looking over my shoulder, mistaking shadows as phantoms and ghosts wherever I am. I will always be searching for that small piece that I left behind in the basement that night…"

She trailed off as she saw the color steadily drain from Raoul's handsome face. There was no doubt she had just confirmed what he had been afraid to hear. "Christine… The past events are too fresh in your mind for you to forget them so quickly. Once you're out of the city, you'll have a chance to properly recover, then you can forget…"

The young diva shook her dark head, curls whipping across her face. "No, Raoul. That's just the thing. I…don't want to forget."

Christine felt her heart crack as Raoul's deep blue eyes slid shut as he bowed his head. Tears filled her eyes as she could hear his heart breaking apart. Gently, she rested her fingers on the side of his face, easing him to look back up at her. "Dear Raoul…dear, sweet Raoul…you've shown me nothing but love and kindness since this all began. But you don't want to spend the rest of your life with a wife who's haunted by a ghost. Erik – whether he's dead or alive – will always be a part of my life. And I can't bare the thought of dragging you into my obsession. You deserve someone who will always have their eyes forward, always looking at you, and not at the shadows of the past."

"Christine…" Raoul began softly, lifting his hand to cover her own. "I love you. I can live with that, and with your ghost…"

"And I love you. But as a dear friend, and as the brother I never had. But not as a wife should love a husband. If I stayed Raoul, I would only by lying to myself, and hurting you. You might feel as if you can live with it now, but what about ten years from now? Fifteen years from now? Living with a woman with a divided heart…"

"But what of your happiness, Christine? What will you do if the Opera Ghost is indeed dead?"

Christine shut her eyes, not wanting to believe that possibility, but not denying it either. It was time she stopped acting like a child and believing in foolish fantasies and grow up. Yes, she wished very much that Erik was still alive and well, but she also had to accept the reality that perhaps he was not. "I…don't know, Raoul. I guess that's something I'll just have to figure out when the time comes."

"Little Lotte… I only want what's best for you."

Christine smiled gently. "I know, my dear friend. And that's the most I could ever ask of you."

Raoul leaned forward and embraced her then, holding her tightly as if it were for the last time. "I will always love you, Christine Daaé, my Little Lotte. Even if it is just as a friend and as a brother. Please, don't ever hesitate to come back if you need me, even if it is just as a friend, no matter where life's path might take you."

Christine hugged her childhood friend tightly, her heart feeling lighter than it had in days. "Thank you Raoul. Thank you for understanding."

"I only ask that you remain safe. I hope that you find the happiness in life in which you are searching for." He pulled away, still holding her hands as he stood up. "What will you do now?"

"The only thing I can do now. Return to the Opera House and start looking for Erik there."

"But the Opera Populaire is a disaster zone since the fire. The police won't let you near it. How will you ever get in?"

A tiny, sly smile rose came to Christine's mouth. It was the kind of smile Raoul had not seen in years; the kind she processed when they were children and she had just concocted the next dastardly adventure for them to get into. "You see, Raoul, that is but one advantage to being taken under the wing of the Angel of Music."

-

TBC….

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**Author's Note:** Although I am a 100 supporter of the Erik/Christine relationship, I can't really regard Raoul as being a bad guy. Yeah, he tends to get in the way and if he was not in the scene, I think that Erik and Christine would have had a shot at a real romantic relationship… But, like I said, I would not change the original story in any way. Besides, he's not a bad guy, overall. Just misinformed. Like so many other people in the story, he follows societies' configuration to loath and fear that he does not understand, and unfortunately, it is that same entity of the unknown that's crushing on his childhood sweetheart. So of course he's going to clash with Erik. In my point of view, though, this by no means makes him a villain, and I didn't have the heart to label him as one.


	3. Memories of a Broken Kiss

**Chapter Three**

**Memories of a Broken Kiss**

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_"I wanted you to know that I love the way you laugh_

_I want to hold you high and steal your pain away_

_I keep your photograph; I know it serves me well_

_I want to hold you high and steal your pain…_

_The worse is over now and we can breath again_

_I want to hold you high, you steal my pain away_

_There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight_

_I want to hold you high and steal your pain_

_'Cause I'm broken when I'm open_

_And I don't feel like I'm strong enough_

_'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome_

_And I don't feel light when you're gone away…"_

_ "Broken", Seether_

-

_"You try my patience. Make your choice!"_

_Erik gave a sharp tug on the Punjab lasso, and it tightened threateningly around Raoul's neck, making the young Vicomte choke and erupt into a fit of violent coughing._

_Christine had never felt more torn or helpless in her life, not even when she was at her ailing father's side when she was a child. She felt panic and fear threatening to overwhelm her at the sight of Raoul, her childhood friend and sweetheart, bound against the cold gates of Erik's lair with the deadly lasso clinging around his neck. One good pull from Erik would snap his neck like a twig._

_But…Erik…_

_Christine could feel her heart breaking apart as she looked upon him. Unmasked in both face and soul, he was completely exposed to her, and as desperate for her to love him as a man dying in the desert was for water. When she looked at him, she no longer saw her beloved Angel of Music, not the feared Phantom of the Opera. She only saw Erik the man, Erik who loved her more than anything else in his life. He was making that painfully clear, that he would go to any measure to make her his, whether it be by free will or force. She remembered the words she had sung to him not moments before…_

"The tears that I might have shed for your dark fate turn cold, and turn to tears of _hate!"_

_She did not hate him. She was angry at him, yes, and perhaps afraid, but the words she had sung held no true relevance. She was only hurt that he had resorted to going to such lengths to convince her to stay. If he loved her, why would he hurt her so by killing Raoul? If Erik did indeed pull that lasso, then she could truly never forgive him._

_A sudden revelation struck Christine like a physical blow to the head. _Hurt?_ What did she know about being hurt, being betrayed? Twice already she had betrayed his trust by taking the mask from his face. Once had been out of sheer ignorance, and the second was in front of hundreds of onlookers within the Opera Populaire… The anguish in his eyes when she took it during _Don Juan _made__ her feel like a monster, the loathsome creature that everyone had described Erik as…_

_She felt like Eve at the moment of the fall. _

_She could no longer blame him for his actions._

_Erik had been driven to the end of his patience by her, by her childish ignorance. It had been her fault that they were here…_

_Everything was all her fault…_

_But now was her last chance to make it all right._

_Christine's fear disappeared like smoke as she stepped into the icy waters, closing the distance between Erik and herself. Confusion and fear replaced the anger and desperation in Erik's eyes as she drew closer to him, her own blue depths reflecting a level of calm and maturity he had never seen her possess before. As she stepped forward, he stepped back. Her heart bled with sympathy for him._

_"_Pitiful creature of darkness…what kind of life have you known?"

_Carefully, she reached up to touch the rough skin of his deformity, but he flinched away from her fingers as if he feared she was going to strike him. That one cringe, the way he recoiled from her made her chest ache in crushing guilt. _

_"_God give me courage to show you, you are not alone!"

_Before Erik had the chance to pull away again, Christine thrust herself onto her toes and locked her lips to his._

_Her angel stiffened like a statue under her embrace, but he did not pull away, nor did he move to hold her back. For a quick moment, Christine was afraid she had made a horrible mistake. When she pulled back, she was met by the sight of Erik's bewildered eyes, looking as if he could not comprehend what she had just done. That was not the memory she wanted to leave him with… Wondering for the rest of his life if her kiss had been real, or if it were only some cruel dream._

_Gently, Christine reached up to brush a lock of stray hair from his eyes, then wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself up to kiss him again. Only now the kiss was longer, deeper, and when Erik responded and his lips moved against her own, she was sure her heart would stop._

_Never been here before._

_Never been this far…_

_…and never, ever had she felt like this before…_

_This was so much different than Raoul's sweet, sugar-coated kisses. Erik's kiss was far more powerful, even during his state of weakness and unease, but it tasted of ambrosia and honey, leaving her longing for more. Her heart pounded, her head swam, her blood was on fire. Time froze, and there was nothing else in the world._

_There was only Erik._

_It was only their need for air that drove them apart, but Christine's eyes stayed locked with Erik's in a moment of everlasting silence. Never before had she felt so complete, so at peace with the world around her. One small, pale hand traced along the ravaged skin of Erik's right cheek, and she could feel his tears under her fingers. No longer did she take heed of the deformity that he hid from the world for so long. She only saw the beautiful soul that had lain dormant under the darkness until now…_

_It was then that her heart made its choice, and all she wanted to do was kiss him again…_

_But as she moved to embrace him, she only met empty air. With a startled cry, Christine tumbled forward and fell to the cold water. Coughing, she lifted herself out of the water, shivering, and looked around. Everything was gone: Raoul, the lair, the sounds of the mob…Erik…everything. There was only her and the darkness, standing knee-deep in the icy, misty lake._

_"Raoul?" she called out, only to hear the sound of her own echo. "Erik? Erik! Where are you?"_

_In the following silence, Christine felt a soft breath on her neck, a warm presence against her back, a gentle whisper at her ear…_

Christine…

_Christine gasped and whirled around, only to meet empty darkness behind her. "Erik…?" she called softly, fighting against the sob threatening to rise to her throat. "Erik, is that you?"_

_Then, a voice… It seemed to be right behind her, in the distance, all around her… But where ever it came from, she would know it anywhere, in any life…_

I gave you my music…

Made your song take wing…

_"Erik!" Christine called out again. She began running. She did not know where she was going, or if she was running in the right direction, but it was better than just standing there…_

And now, how you've repaid me,

Denied me and betrayed me…

_Christine's heart constricted painfully at his words, and her running stopped. Tears coursed unheeded down her pale cheeks._

_"No…I didn't mean to…"_

He was bound to love you,

When he heard you sing…

"_I was afraid, Erik!" Christine wailed, her hands creeping up towards her ears. "I was afraid, I didn't know where to turn! I never meant to hurt you!"_

Take her…forget me…

…forget all of this…

Christine clamped her hands over her ears, squeezing her eyes shut. "_Erik, please, don't leave! You haven't heard my choice!"_

Leave me alone…

Forget all you've seen!

_"Erik! You didn't let me choose!"_

Take the boat, swear to me

Never to tell…

"_You didn't let me choose!"_

The secret you know, of the angel in hell!

"_You said you loved me! Why, Erik? Why are you sending me away?"_

_GO NOW! GO NOW AND LEAVE ME!_

Christine sank into the waters, which were now rising, closing over her head…

"_Erik! Why, Erik? WHY?"_

For the second time that night, Christine Daaé woke in a cold sweat, her limbs tangled in the sheets of her hopelessly disheveled bed. Only this time she clamped a pillow to herself, stifling her cries. Every night since the opera house fire, she had awoken Madame Giry and Meg with the screams for her nightmares. Twice in one night was too much.

Christine breathed deeply, trying to calm herself down, muffling her whimpers within the pillow case. Slowly, her heart beat slowed and she gained control of herself, taking time to reassess what had happened in the last few hours.

Raoul had long since gone. Although they had come to a mutual termination of their engagement, Christine still know she deeply wounded him. She did not blame him for leaving, to get away from her. She seemed to have that affect on men…

But her mind did not stay on the Vicomte for long, and quickly returned to the dream. This one was new… Sure, she thought of the kiss between her and Erik every day, but this was the first time is appeared so vividly in her dreams. And with it, the question that had haunted her since she and Raoul fled from the Phantom…

_Erik…why did you let me go?_

Of course, she could think of a hundred reasons to why he cast her away, turned her away from his life after her last betrayal… Even though he told her…that he loved her…

Then there was that look of longing, of raw _hope_ in his eyes when she returned that last time. And his last words…

"_Christine, I love you…"_

Christine snorted, reprimanding herself for her foolishness. If he did not hate her when he told her and Raoul to leave, then he must have certainly after she returned his ring. He had given her everything, and the only thing she gave back to him was a broken heart and shattered dreams.

But the question was still unanswered. And it was eating her alive.

With a determined sigh, Christine slid out of bed and immediately began to dress. There was only one way she would ever get an answer…

…if Erik was alive, that was…

_Stop it. Don't think about that. Just take this one step at a time. First dress, then write a note to Madame Giry and Meg, telling them what's going on… _Then _you can worry about Erik and returning to the Opera House…_

Picking up a piece of scrap paper and a pen, Christine scribbled a quick note to her hostesses telling them of her course of actions, and asking them to not worry, and not to follow. This was something she needed to do on her own.

Walking as quiet as a mouse, Christine tip-toed through the house, watching out for any loose floorboards. Retrieving her cloak from the pegs by the door, the young dive threw it around her shoulders and stepped outside. Although the sky was still dark, she could see the first gray light of dawn cresting over the homes of Paris. It had begun to snow again as well. She was grateful it was still so early. That meant she could get back into the Opera Populaire with a less chance of being seen.

Taking a deep breath, she began to walk in the direction of the ruined opera house. Her mind was in turmoil. Suppose she did find Erik…what would his feelings be towards her? Would her welcome her back, elated at her return, or curse her and send her away, alone to the world?

She told herself, once again, that was something she was going to have to deal with when the time came.

_Remember Erik… You gave me a choice. But you never allowed me to choose before you walked away from me…_

_-_

**Author's Note:** So I had to write my favorite scene from the movie. Sue me.

Wait, don't. Bad idea. I'm poor…

Anywho, I'm really trying not to make Christine into a weeper in this story. Okay, she's a little whiny last chapter, and during the flashbacks…but hey, the girl's had a rough week, and I bet she's horribly confused. So we can cut her some slack.

I hate to say it, but Erik won't be in for another chapter…the last, actually. Sorry… But it's coming, I'm trying to keep a steady pace on this. I kinda have to… Think of this as a fictionalized essay of the reasons why I think Erik and Christine are made for each other, and how they are able to hear each other's wounds. So I need to get all ideas out quickly before I forget them…


	4. Down Once More

**Chapter Four**

**Down Once More**

****

**-**

_"If I tell you, will you listen?_

_Will you stay?_

_Will you be here forever,_

_Never go away?_

_Never thought things would change,_

_Hold me tight, please don't say again,_

_That you have to go…_

_A bitter__ fall, I had it all,_

_But I just let it go_

_Hold your silence, it's so violent_

_Since you're gone…_

_All my thoughts are you with you forever,_

_Until the day we back together,_

_I will be waiting for you…" _

"Bittersweet", Within Temptation

The ruins of the Opera Populaire rose ominously before Christine, the charred black walls standing out starkly against the early morning sky. The broken windows leered down at her like empty eye sockets, cold and accusing her of her past crimes and betrayals, daring her to come closer. A crude fence had been erected around the opera house to keep curious passer bys out and away from the highly dangerous area. The grand doors were nailed shut. It was overall a pitiful sight to see. The once magnificent opera house which had once been so inviting, had once been her home, reduced to this broken, unwelcoming mass.

It was a dark and dreary reminder to Christine of what she was about to face once she was inside. Reason begged her to turn away, to return to the safety of the Giry's home and back to Raoul, to forget all of this like she was supposed to have…

But her heart did not allow to cast so much as a remorseful glance back over her shoulder.

Something moved by the fence, and Christine had to quickly duck into the shadows of the ally she was standing in as a police officer crossed her view. There was no way she could get close to the entrance of the Opera Populaire without being seen, much less make an effort to pull off the boards over the doors to get in. She just had to hope that the back entrance would be unguarded…

Staying out of the officer's field of view, Christine moved through the back ally ways, careful to keep to the shadows as she made a wide arch to the back of the opera house. The fence circled around the entire ruined building, but as far as she could tell, there were no policemen guarding the back. Still, Christine waited, but after several long, tense moments, nothing moved. Taking a deep breath, the young woman quickly made her way to the fence, passing easily through the loose boards.

It was much darker behind the fence boards, making it slightly harder for Christine to find the latch to the hidden door that Erik had shown her many months ago. She briefly recalled how he took her hand and gently guided her fingers along the walls, teaching her how to feel for what could not be seen. The mere memory of his touch made her heart flutter within her chest…

Christine abandoned the memory when she heard the sounds of footsteps approaching from around the corner. Her heart thumped behind her ribs as she hastily ran her hand across the face of the brick wall, praying that she did not miss the latch in her urgency to find it. Then she felt it catch under her fingers and felt a surge of joy. Luckily, the secret door opened both ways. If there was ever a time that Erik needed to leave the opera house, he would have to get both out and in without being noticed by anyone. Christine pulled the latch, and a section of the stone wall slid away before her, leaving nothing but a gaping black void in its place. Without a second thought, Christine entered the secret door and tripped the latch on the other side, closing the portal behind her.

The corridor was plunged into darkness, but she no longer feared the dark. Yet another gift her precious Angel of Music had given to her.

Keeping her hands on the cold, rough walls, Christine traced her steps back down the path that would lead her to Erik's underground home. The stairwell that took her five stories underground was steep and slippery, and the descent was long and slow as she took care to not loose her footing. If she tripped and fell and injured herself, no one would know she was down here.

After what felt like hours, Christine felt her feet meet level ground, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The corridor was still nearly pitch black, but she knew it as well as if she had lived here her entire life. The smell of damp stone and exotic incense, the sounds of the lapping water of the subterranean lake, the bone chilling damp of the air… Still staying close to the wall, Christine moved forward once again, but she did not get very far before a gasp of surprise caught in her throat.

Light.

There was light in the cavern; the soft glow of candlelight, but light nonetheless. Not only that, but she could also see the hidden "back door" of Erik's home was slightly ajar. That could only mean…

She nearly laughed out loud as she picked up her pace to a near run, following the light as if it were a beacon to salvation. Trembling from head to toe, Christine approached the door that would have otherwise been hidden in the stony wall and pushed it open until she could make her way inside.

Her heart broke all over again.

Erik's home – his once enchanting, darkly beautiful home – was no more. In its place was nothing more than a tomb of broken furniture, torn papers and destroyed books… The mob had left nothing in tact. Anything that could have been broken was so in the most complete way possible. Broken tallow candles littered the floor like the bodies of fallen soldiers, laying in a field of shredded paper and splintered wood. Christine barely recognized the chairs she and Erik would occupy in front of the fireplace in her brief time here, where they would spend hours reading to one another, or immersed in a game of chest…

_She remembered how captivated she was when she watched him carefully plan his next move, even though she was hardly a skilled chest player, brow furrowed and frowning deeply… In the firelight, the unmasked side of his face had a sort of intangible beauty that made her heart still in her chest…_

The most heartbreaking sight of all that the magnificent organ that once dominated the far wall of the house. It seemed that the mob had taken all their fury out on the instrument. The pipes were bents and twisted at painful angles, the keys ripped away from the keyboard and crushed… Tears stung Christine's eyes, and she had to look away.

_The hours they spent at the organ, singing to each other, with each other, for each other… How Erik would gently instruct her, correcting her mistakes, guiding her as the most skilled teacher in the world…_

_There was even the night when she just sat next to him as he played and composed, lost in his own thoughts, unaware of her state of silent awe beside him until she eventually drifted off into a warm sleep, her head coming to rest upon his shoulder…_

"May I help you, Miss?"

The unexpected voice from behind made Christine cry out in surprise, jumping in fright so badly that she could barely stand afterwards. The man who had spoken had frightened her so badly that her mind did not even register the voice belonging to Erik, but as her pulse slowed, her knew immediately that the thickly accented voice was anything but his.

Standing a few cautious feet behind her was a foreign, dark-skinned man whom Christine had never seen before. If finding a girl in the cellars of the opera house surprised him, he showed no outward sign; only one eyebrow was raised, a silent request for her to explain herself.

Her confusion, though, quickly gave way to panic as she studied his attire. It looked like a uniform… a police uniform. As foreign as he, but a police uniform nonetheless. Erik had never told her of anyone who knew their way to his underground home…

Panic turned to anger. Bitter, raging anger that Christine had never felt before. She had no control of her actions as she hurdled herself at the man, her hands grasping the front of his jacket like the claws of an animal and she shook him with all the strength she possessed.

"You bastard!" she snarled. "What did you do to him?"

Shock and confusion flooded the man's face. "I beg your pardon?"

"Erik!" Christine nearly shrieked. "Where is he? What have you done to him? If you hurt him…"

Almost instantly the shock in the man's eyes dissolved into understanding. "I take it…you're Christine?"

The gentle tone in his voice extinguished the anger in Christine's blood before she realized it had happened. The panic, however, remained. "Where is Erik? What have you done with him? And who are you?"

"Relax, Mademoiselle Daaé, I assure you he is safe. In fact, I was just able to convince him to sleep, and I advise you, it is probably wise that he is not awoken to such a…racket." The man gently took Christine's hands and unlatched them from his now very wrinkled coat. "My name is Nadir, Mademoiselle. I have known Erik for quite some time, from the time he spent in Persia. I just happened to be in the city when I heard rumors of the events with the Opera Ghost, and the disaster of Don Juan and the chandelier."

"How long have you been here?" Christine asked, bewilderment and hope mingling in her voice.

"Ever since the mobs cleared and the fires were out. I heard nothing of the police saying if a body had been found or not, so I had to check myself."

"Was he hurt?"

"Physically? No."

Christine winced at his sharply punctuated words.

"I assume that he…told you about me…"

Nadir nodded gravely. Christine adverted her gaze to hide the tears.

"You probably think I'm a horrible person…"

Silence dragged on for several moments before the Persian sighed. "That, I cannot answer, even from knowing Erik as long as I have. At first, I wondered if he was mad when he told me that he had found love in his life. Ever since I knew him, he had always been incredibly independent, attaching himself to nothing and nobody. But I should have assumed…when Erik does find something of desire to him, no matter how rare that may be, he would fight to the death for it, not caring what consequences were suffered along the way." Nadir turned back to her, but now his hard eyes were soft and sympathetic. "You must not blame Erik for his actions, Mademoiselle. As brilliant as the man is, he is unaccustomed when dealing with others and the potential result of his actions. I do not blame you for fearing him, or from fleeing, when he threatened you with your fiancé's life."

Christine opened her mouth to correct him, but decided quickly against it. This was not the time, and it was not his business.

"But I am convinced that even with his temper, his potential for malice…he would have never hurt you. I could tell that by the look in his eyes. Seeing Erik in tears was somewhat…unnerving."

_Take her…_

_Forget me…_

_Forget all of this…_

"Where is he now?"

The Persian inclined to the direction of the Phillip-Louise room, which had been her own when Erik brought her down with him. "As I said, asleep. He was something of a mess when I found him, and the fits of rage were something of a horror to behold. He has not slept since the night you left."

Christine nodded, and began to move to the direction of the room.

"Mademoiselle."

She turned back.

"I also regret to inform you that all he spoke of you were not of love and adoration. As I said before, I do not believe he is physically capable of harming you. But are you prepared to face what is to come to be when you speak to him? Erik's heart was already as unsteady as a ticking time bomb before it was broken."

Fear crept into Christine's chest, but she fought it back. "Yes. I am prepared. I just could not leave it as it ended that night."

The Persian said nothing. Taking a deep breath, Christine pushed the door open and walked inside.

The room beyond was dark, save but a single candle burning on the dresser. Even in the soft light, though, Christine could see the room was still whole, completely untouched by the mob, but that was the last of her concerns at the moment. Her entire attention was focused on the man asleep on the grand mahogany bed.

Erik lay on his back, his hands folded across his torso. His head was slightly inclined to the right, the candlelight reflecting off the mask with surprising brightness, and his breathing was deep and regular. This was not the breathing of a peaceful sleep, Christine knew. As Nadir had said, he was clearly exhausted, the evidence of not sleeping in a full week written all over him. His eyes were lined with dark circles, his hair an untidy mess. Dark stubble clung to his face and his clothing was badly wrinkled. Christine felt her heart constrict and tears come to her eyes as she quietly crossed the room to his side.

This was the portrait of a broken man. A man who lost everything, even after a lifetime of nothing.

Raoul had been hurt when she broke off their engagement.

Erik had been crushed under the weight of his own life crashing down on top of him when she left.

With trembling fingers, Christine reached out to brush a few tendrils of hair from his eyes. It was then she realized this was the first time she had ever seen Erik asleep. She was not sure why that surprised her. Maybe it was because Erik had always been too proud to reveal such a time of vulnerability to anyone, herself included.

He looked like a child.

With a gentle smile, Christine reached over and carefully peeled his mask back from his face, setting it down beside her before turning her attention back to him. The pang of shock she had once felt looking at his deformity was gone as she absently traced the marred features with the pads of her fingers, pulling back slightly when Erik sighed in his sleep, turning over to his side by just a few inches.

Christine felt a wave of warmth and compassion crash over her as she watched him.

This was not the Angel of Music

This was not the Phantom of the Opera.

This was Erik.

Erik the man.

The man…she had grown to love. Despite all the fear, all the betrayal, all the pain… she loved him. Unconditionally, and without reason.

Being as careful as she could, Christine reached for a blanket at the end of the bed and gently draped it over his sleeping form, allowing her hands to whisper up his chest and to his face once more.

She loved him.

But Nadir's words came back to haunt her. How would he regard her after her last betrayal, after she unmasked him before the audience of Don Juan, after she gave the ring back to him?

Christine sighed.

She was just going to have to wait until he woke up.

**Author's Note:** I stayed up until 2 in the morning finishing this sucker. And on a school night, nonetheless.

This is almost fully a "filler" chapter, just to link together what happens between Christine's nightmares and when she actually talks to Erik again. Believe me, I really didn't want to take the time to explain how she got back into the opera house (which I know I totally pulled out of my ass), but it had to be done. Forgive me if Christine is out of character in this one, but if I was in her position, I'd probably fly off that handle seeing someone in Erik's "secret house" as well. Overall, I would appreciate if any errors on my part are overlooked. It's not the main focus of the story, after all.

The scene where Christine sees Erik asleep wasn't supposed to be in until the next chapter, but I figured I needed to give you guys some fluffiness to cuddle up to before the next (and final) chapter is posted. Maybe it's just me, but has anyone else noticed how beautiful and peaceful looking some people are when they're asleep? I can imagine Erik would be one of them.


	5. You Alone

**Chapter Five**

**You Alone**

"_This night is too long_

_Have no strength to go on,_

_No more pain, I'm falling away…_

_Through the mist see the face_

_Of an angel, calls my name_

_I remember you're the reason that I stay…"_

_ "_Pale", Within Temptation

He was haunted by her memory when he was awake.

He was plagued by dreams of her when he was asleep.

There were times when Erik wanted to burn all memories of her from his mind, yet there were times when he clung to them like a lifeline, as if they were the only thing he had left to live for.

He refused to believe it had only been a week since his Christine left him with that boy, leaving him alone in the catacombs of the Opera House. It felt like a lifetime ago, and every day that passed, he was born again to relive the pain, to suffer through the loneliness, condemned to relive it all over and over until true death would eventually claim him.

A week. It couldn't have possibly been only a week.

Erik was dreaming again.

_The cruel memory of her sweet, soft lips on his own, the intoxicating whisper of her tongue against his mouth. The kiss ended far too soon, and yet it seemed to have lasted an eternity as Christine lifted his heart from the darkness, letting it soar to the heavens and touch the stars…_

_And then she was gone, leaving his along, dropping him back into the darkness of reality. Never before had he felt such loneliness. He had always _been_ alone, but now that he knew what he was missing from life, the feeling burrowed deep inside him like a poisonous thorn, the burning pain of his broken heart searing to every corner of his body._

_Desperately, Erik called out her name, reaching out to her, but was met only with the empty darkness, and her diamond ring blinking mockingly up at him…_

Erik awoke with a start. Beads of cold sweat clung to his forehead, yet he could feel hot tears in his eyes, streaming down his face. Angrily, he wiped them away and fell back so heavily onto the bed that the frame shifted.

Someone groaned next to him.

Erik's head snapped around, his sharp eyes seeking out the intruder in the poor light of Christine's old room. He had been so undone in the past few days that he did not even notice that he was not alone. Erik did not care who it was; he felt so unnerved and unstable that he was ready to strangle his uninvited guest…

Until he saw the dark mass of chocolate curls framing a pale, angelic face that rested serenely on the side of his bed.

For several long, dragging moments, Erik could only stare, wondering if what he was seeing was true, _daring_ to believe that it was true, _praying_ that it was not just another cruel dream…

…that Christine, _his_ Christine, was really here, with him…

Slowly, Erik lifted a trembling hand, hesitating to touch her to prove to himself that she was real, but before his fingers could stroke her silky strands, Christine stirred again, her eyelids fluttering. She was waking up. Erik immediately withdrew his hand, his heart thundering behind his ribs.

Christine lifted her head slowly, looking for a moment as if she could not remember where she was. When Erik whispered her name, and their eyes met for the first time in…a week! Only a week! Erik began to allow a faint glimmer of hope enter his heart when her eyes lit up when she looked at him, as if, Heaven forbid, she might have been _happy_ to see him…

Then he saw his mask laying discarded on the nightstand beside her.

With a horrified gasp, Erik's hand flew to the deformed side of his face, turning away from her, back into the darkness…

Just as quickly, Christine's hands came up to take told of his, trying to prevent him from recoiling away, from running from her again.

"Erik, please…" Christine whispered, sitting up on the edge of the bed, using it as a leverage to pry his hand away from her face. "Please don't hide from me." He did not budge, but Christine was able to slip a slender hand under his so her cool palm was pressed against the twisted flesh of his face. Immediately he dropped her hand, as if he did not want to subject her to touch such a monstrosity.

Christine sat back, watching him intently, waiting for him to speak. He would not look at her.

_What was she doing here?_

_And, more importantly, did the Vicomte know she was here…?_

"What are you doing here, Christine?"

The light in Christine's eyes flickered, but she hoped that he would not see the hopeful expression in her face falter. His voice was not necessarily bitter, nor was it overly cold…but it was certainly not warm or welcoming.

_As if you should be so surprised.__ You crushed his soul, tore his heart from his chest. Did you really think he would welcome you back with open arms?_ Bracing herself for the worse, Christine drew a quiet breath, trying to keep her own voice light and steady, but she knew before she ever spoke a word that this conversation would end with her in tears. She had to make the most of it while she was still in control.

"I…I…" she began, cursing herself inwardly when the words would not form. She had come all the way here, she had ended her engagement to Raoul, evaded the police, felt her way down to his home in complete darkness, and now she was tongue tied. She had not even thought about what she would say to him if she did find him alive.

_Well, he's alive now. Anything you say will sound foolish, regardless of how it's said. If I don't take the first step, this will only end badly…_

"When…when Raoul and I left…" she really did not want to bring Raoul's name into their meeting so early, but she could think of no other way to ignite the conversations… "The mob was still coming…and I did not know if you had escaped or not. I…I was fearing the worse, but no one could tell me if you had gotten away, not even Madame Giry. So…I had to see for myself…"

"So what was it that drove you to come here, really? Guilt? Pity? You've come this far, you might as well not skip around the details."

Christine flinched at Erik's accusing words, but she would not allow herself to be frightened away. Heaven only knew that if she left now, she would never regain the courage to return, and she would spend the rest of her life regretting never telling him the truth because she was too much of a coward to do so.

Erik was right about one thing, however; there was no use in avoiding any details.

She had crossed the find threshold the moment she step foot in the ruins of the Opera Populaire.

It took every ounce of self control to restrain the tears as Christine opened the floodgates of her confession. "I came back because I was afraid, Erik." She blurted out, with far more emotion than she would have preferred. She took a breath, trying to calm herself down before continuing. Erik was still not looking at her. "Ever since I left that night, I've…been having nightmares. Horribly nightmares… I kept seeing, over and over again, the mob burning your home, and I'm holding your mask while standing in the flames. Then the mask be-begins to bleed, but I can't find you, no matter how much I call out…" By now tears coursed down her face, but went unnoticed. "…I can't find you. It's the first time in years that you're not with me…and I was so, so afraid…"

Silence hung thick in the air surrounding them. Christine sat poised at the edge of the bed, her hands clenched into tight fists around the sheets, waiting for Erik to speak…

"And it did not occur to you that if you left, I would not have been with you? I suppose you welcomed that idea then."

Guilt began to clench around Christine's chest, as if a giant snake was coiling itself around her, slowly tightening its death grip. "I…I didn't know." Christine stammered, feeling helplessly childish. "I didn't know how much I would miss you from my life…"

"No…I suppose you wouldn't have known, since life with the Vicomte was promised to be so perfect…"

Christine bowed her head, her voice nothing more than a whisper. "Please…don't bring him into it. He is not at fault."

Erik snorted dryly, but said nothing else in response.

Once again they were consumed by silence. Christine was unsure where to go with it next. Not knowing what he was thinking was killing her. Carefully, she reached forward to grasp Erik's hand in her own. His fingers were cold under her own, and she could feel him tense under her touch. "Erik…please, say something. Anything."

Erik sighed. He still would not look at her. Had he not been so exhausted, worn out from what felt like years of lament, anguish and violent temper rages, he knew that this "reunion" would have ended in disaster. But now, he hardly had the strength to raise his voice. "What do you want me to say, Christine? You already said why you came back. So now you know I'm alive, if you can even call my miserable existence that. Now you can be rid of your guilt, and return to your lover."

Christine shook her head, no longer able to restrain the tears that began to course down her face. "I…I can't. Raoul and I broke off the engagement." She paused. "_I_ broke off the engagement."

Another tense pause.

"Why?"

"Because it wouldn't have been fair to him. Because…because I don't love him the way a woman should love her future husband."

"Go back to him, Christine. Don't let his nearly dying for you be in vain."

Christine winced as daggers of remorse pieced her heart, but did not allow it to deter her. "Do you want me to leave?"

"Yes."

A small sob choked from Christine's mouth before she could stop it, a soft whimper that made her feel weak and hopeless to her soul. She should have expected this. She had already worn Erik's patience to the bone with all her childish antics, her betrayals, her denial of him. She had waited her whole life for him, for her Angel of Music, and yet once he came to her, bared his soul to her, she shunned him in the worse way possible and ran to the arms of another. He was tired of putting up with her and her games, she could tell.

If she were in his place, she knew she would feel just the same.

"…alright…" she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady. "I…I'll leave. But…before I go, there's one more question I have to ask. Then I'll leave."

_Again…_

For a few seconds, she thought he would reject her, that his silence was a form of unyielding dismissal.

"Well? What is it?"

Christine's heart gave a small leap of hope. With a shaking hand, she reached out to gently lay a clammy palm on the deformed side of his face. As expected, he tried to move away from her touch, but she kept her arm steady as she guided him to face her. His eyes were still hard, demanding that she ask her question and leave right afterwards.

"Why?" she asked. "Why did you send me away with Raoul? Why didn't you…stop me from leaving?"

"It was what you wanted, was it not? He was your choice, not I."

"No…" Christine said. "He wasn't."

That caught his attention. Erik's eyes softened dramatically, a silent plea for her to continue. Christine swallowed hard, choosing each word she spoke with accurate delicacy.

"You…you gave me a choice. Him, or you. But you didn't allow me to _choose_, Erik. I didn't have a chance to _make_ my decision before you sent me away…"

"It seemed obvious to me, at the time." Erik said bitterly, his eyes averting away from hers. That was not, sure could tell, what he wanted to hear. "Why would have chosen a monster over de Chagny?"

"That's not what I said." Christine said firmly, pulling herself up further onto the bed so she was more directly in his line of vision. "You're twisting my words."

"Then please, _my dear_, continue."

"Erik…" she began, once again reaching up to touch him, but now only to have him grip her wrist tightly in his hand, his hold unyielding. Was she still hurting him that much? "Do you think that I kissed you…as a bribe? As a way to save Raoul? Do you really think I would be that heartless to deliberately wound you that deeply? Erik…Erik, there was no lie in my words that night. Or in my kiss. You were not…_are_ not alone, because I wasn't going to let you be alone, and I had to prove that to you in the only way I knew how." Something warm dripped onto Christine's hand; tears ran down Erik's face, and yet he still refused to look at her. He was still fighting her words, still not allowing himself to believe the possibility that her words might have, could have been true.

"Why?" Christine asked again, her heart twisting painfully in her chest. "Why did you send me away?"

It took another couple of long, drawn out minutes for Erik to compose himself enough to speak again. "Christine…" he began, uncertain. "What…what you did for me that night…that one moment…was more I could have ever asked from you. You gave me a taste of humanity, allowed me to forget, in almost forty years, of what I am… You actually made me forget about my face, my fate, my anger…" Slowly, he raised her hand to the normal side of his face, nuzzling gently against her palm, his eyes closed even though tears still continue to slip from beneath. "…and when the moment was over, I wanted to remember you, always, as I did then," He opened his eyes then, looking at her with the same expression when he confessed his love to her…before she left him. "as if you truly loved me…and only me. That that one moment, as short as it was, your heart belonged to me and no other.

"But I realized, that even if you had chosen to stay on your own will…I would never experience that again. You would never kiss me like that again…because you would have been unhappy here. I knew then that I couldn't keep you locked up down here, away from the rest of the world, away from the sun… That, eventually, all that would have been left of you was an empty shell, like a flower kept hidden from the sunlight, to wither away and die due to my own selfishness. I…I couldn't do that to you, Christine. I knew I would loose you either way, but if I knew that you were happy…then that would have been all that mattered."

There. He had said it. He had answered her question with painful truth. The memory of finally believing that someone might have actually loved him, that the one person he held dear to him saw him as a man and not a monster was unbearable, and he could feel his heart dying as that one small flame of hope began to go out…

All logical thought process stopped there, and all the breath was knocked from Erik's lungs as Christine careened into him, her arms flying in a vice-like grip around his neck as they were both sent sprawling flat against the bed. Erik's eyes flew open in shock. Christine was clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth, her hot tears soaking through his thin shirt.

"Christine…?"

"You…are…so…stupid!" Christine gasped in between sobs. Needless to say, her words caught Erik more off guard than her crashing embrace. "Why do you have to be so damn _wonderful?_"

Hell had definitely frozen over. In all the years he had watched her, Erik had never heard Christine swear. He had even began to think that she didn't even think of such words. It was as if an entirely different woman had taken her place. Suddenly, Christine thrust herself up onto her arms so she was looking down at him, her thick locks falling over her face.

"How could you?" she demanded. "How can you forgive me for everything I've done to you? And how _dare_ you assume you know what makes me happy! You know nothing!"

"Christine!" Erik's voice was firm from shock rather than strife, but it was enough to stop her meaningless babbling, if not for a moment. Erik pushed himself up onto his elbows, leaning against the elaborately carved headboard of the bed and pulled Christine towards him. Her rage had dissolved as quickly as it came, leaving the girl crying and exhausted in its wake. Christine slumped gratefully slumped against him, taking comfort in the heat and presence of his body so close to hers. Although still confused, Erik stroked Christine's tightly curled hair, hoping to sooth her. "Shh…" he soothed against her ear. "It's all right, Christine. Please calm down. Tell me what's wrong."

Eventually, Christine's sobs resided, but her death hold on Erik's shirt did not slacken. Had she held him any tighter, he was certain the fabric would have torn under her fingers. "He didn't see me."

Erik blinked, his confusion reaching a whole new level. This night was doing wonders on his senses, that was for sure. "Who didn't see you, Christine?"

"Him. Raoul. He didn't see me."

Erik sighed. "Dearest, he never you let you out of his sight."

"That's not what I meant." Christine said, shaking her head against his shoulder. "You were there, during the rehearsals for _Hannibal_It was just after Mousiers Firman and Andre introduced him as their new patron. He…walked right past me. He didn't even take a second glance. He did not see me…until I was on stage. That night. He only noticed me when I was a trophy…not when I was just another chorus girl. It…bothered me. Ever since that night, I could not help but wonder, usually when I was trying to fall asleep…why didn't he see me when he was not more than a foot away from me? Then, I began to wonder… We had been such close friends when my father was still alive. Why didn't he try to find me after I was taken away? I thought that maybe his family forbid it, but I also knew Raoul was too stubborn to listen to them. He could have asked… He could have tried to find me. And if he did somehow know I was at the Opera Populaire, then why didn't he ask for me while he was there? And when he did finally see me again… He didn't see me as I am now. He only saw his Little Lotte. Raoul…poor Raoul…he was in love with a memory. He loved his Little Lotte, not Christine Daaé as I am today.

"But you…Erik…" Christine lifted herself up again to look at him in the eyes, and Erik was surprised to see in her own a level of maturity and confidence that he had never seen her possess before. This was not Christine the girl whom he had taken under his wing so long ago…this was Christine as a young woman who had thrown away the crutches of youth and gained a whole new independence that had seemed completely beyond her years. "You saw me when no one else could, when everyone else refused to see. To them, I was nothing more than just another ballerina, just another chorus girl…and I believed that they were right. But, you…I still don't know why, but you looked after me. You protected me…you comforted me in the darkest time of my life. Your voice, your music…you truly _were_ my Angel of Music. Had it not been for you…I would have never known the potential of my own voice. Without you, I would have never experienced the stage as few dare to dream…I would have been forever condemned to live the life as 'another chorus girl'. And Raoul would have never seen me.

"I never told you…" she began again, sitting back but holding Erik's trembling fingers close to her lips. "I never told you that I was only truly happy here…when I was with you. God, Erik, I lived for your lessons… They were the only thing that guided me through the long days of rehearsals, of the isolation from the other chorus girls, through all of Carlotta's unfair treatment of us. Then, when I started coming to stay with you…the singing lessons, playing chess in front of the fire, listening to you read to me until I fell asleep… Those were some of the best days of my life, after my father died. Because once I was with you, even before I ever saw you, I knew that everything was alright. I knew I was safe, because I was with my Angel of Music. It was all…so perfect then." Slowly, she lifted Erik's hand to her lips, placing soft kisses on his fingers as her tears once again fell on the cold digits. "I would give anything to go back to that, knowing what I know now. Sometimes, I wish…I wish I had never sung in _Hannibal_. Then maybe things would have stayed the same…"

She was gently cut off by the incredible sensation of Erik's lips on her forehead, easing her into silence. "Christine…please, don't regret, or deny, that you ever loved the Vicomte. I would never ask you to regret your days with him. I know…I know I frightened you with my jealously. If either one of us could undo the past, it should be me…there is so much I wish I could take back. Please…don't deny that you were happy with him in those months you were with him, before you came back the night of the Masquerade. But never regret that you loved him." He paused, running his thumb softly against Christine's lips. "If…if you had never come back, I would have never regretted loving you, no matter how much it hurt."

Christine sighed, pressing her lips further against his hand. "I was…content…for those few months, yes. But I was still without your music, without _you_…and I missed it all terribly. But when I left last week…I didn't realize how much I would be leaving behind. I left the music in the life…I left my Angel…but, most of all, I left half of my soul behind." Erik's hand stiffened, and she heard him swallow thickly. Nervously, Christine leant forward so her lips were mere inches from Erik's. "I came back, Erik…for the other half of my soul."

She kissed him then, with none of the cautious hesitation from before. There were no more questions, no more doubts. Now it was time to accept…and believe. Truly believe that what they had was real, that it was _theirs_, that they could both never live without it ever again.

Christine shivered as Erik's hands buried themselves in her hair, pulling her forward and on top of him as he leaned back on the bed once again, allowing her to mold to him as neatly as if she were made to fit against him. With a surge of boldness she was not aware she had, Christine swept her tongue into his mouth, tasting him, teasing him, pulling a moan from his throat that was as beautiful as any note he ever sang to her.

"Erik…my angel…" she murmured against his mouth, he lips never leaving his. "I love you… God only knows how much I love you…"

"Christine…" Erik's voice was broken with emotion as he pulled her into a crushing embrace to him, his tears falling silently into her hair. "I cannot express in words, nor in actions, how much I love you. It would take a lifetime to be able to begin to show you. But…if you prefer…I would be more than willing than to spend the rest of my life to prove to you just that…"

And Christine smiled, for the first time in what felt like ages…

…a week. It had only been a week…

But it was a week far too long.

Still smiling, she leaned her forehead against Erik's, one hand coming up to absently play with the unruly locks that fell over his eyes. Lord, he had such beautiful eyes…

"I think…I would like that."

He kissed her then. Twice already she had kissed _him_…but this was the first time in his life he had ever kissed anyone. Giving a kiss, he realized, was just as exhilarating as receiving one.

When they broke apart, no words were spoken for a very long time. There _were_ no words to be said; only a long, awkward silence that seemed to be a void for the spoken language.

They both knew why. They were both standing at the edge of a path to a new life, a new chance at living. The road was going to be long, it was going to be dangerous, but they both knew that as long as they were with each other, hand-in-hand, then everything was going to be alright.

"So…" Christine asked carefully, tracing patterns on the visible part of Erik's chest with one shy finger. "Where do we go from here?"

Erik shook his head, although it was not in remorse, but rather a silent wonder. He curled a finger under her chin, making her look up at him. "I don't know. But as long as you're with me…and I'm with you…then I know we can face anything the fates may deal out to us. We just have to take it one step at a time."

Christine lay back against him with a content sigh, nestling her head against his shoulder as her fingers curled against his neck. "Erik…sing to me…It's been so long since you last sung to me…"

Erik could not help but chuckle. "Christine, it's only been a week."

She shook her head sleepily against him. "A week too long. Please, sing to me, my Angel of Music…"

Erik could not help but smile weakly against her hair. Here he had thought he would never sing again, that his music had left him the same night she had…

But now she was back with him. That changed everything.

"_Say you'll share with me, one love, one…"_

He was cut off with surprise by Christine's hand over his mouth. "No…not that one. Sing the song you sang to me the night you brought me here…the one you only ever sang for me…"

Tears stung Erik's eyes as he held her closer, wanting to draw her into his very soul. Very softly, he sang to her…

"_Floating, falling, sweet intoxication,_

_Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation…_

_Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in,_

_To the power of the music that I write…_

_The power of the music of the night…"_

Together, they would start down the road of the unknown, leaving the tortured past behind them…

Towards a brighter future.

"_You alone can make my song take flight…_

_You came back to me…_

_My music of the night…"_

**_Fin_**

**Author's Note:** Whew! It's finally done! So, what did you all think? Did I deliver to your expectations? Or did I crush them like a bug under my heel?

I very rarely finish fanfics. If you check my profile, you'll notice that I only have one multi-chaptered fic that's complete. Most are just left hanging with a lot of angry reviewers banging at my door, complete with torches and pitchforks in hand. So, the fact that I was able to finish this is a huge plus for me. Then again, it ended up being so short that it would have been pathetic if I didn't finish it. And it's not that I didn't _want_ to finish this. Like I said before, romance scenes are some of the hardest for me to write, and I'm exceptionally paranoid about getting them to turn out just right.

…writing a proper sex scene would take me months, lol

Anywho, I hope you enjoyed it, regardless of whether you were one hundred percent happy with it or not. As I stated before, the whole point behind this story is basically my reasons to why Erik and Christine are made for each other. The whole part with Raoul not seeing Christine? Yeah, that's probably my biggest piece of evidence. When you're really close to someone in your childhood, you're more than likely going to recognize them any other time in life, even if it's a passing inkling of déjà vu. The fact that Raoul never even cast Christine a second glance was never something that really sat well with me, but maybe Raoul fans can educate me otherwise.

…but please, **don't**do it in the review box. If you want to discuss it with me in a civilized manner, then feel free to talk to me through AIM.

But yeah…I hope to get more written for "Our December". That's a real fanfic compared to this, with a more fleshed out plot and all that jazz.

On a last note; thank you to all have reviewed. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. Seriously.

As for an epilogue? Hmm…

We'll see. But I'm not making any promises.

Cheers,

O.D


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